


Soul Break

by casbuddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x23 Coda, Demon Dean, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-18
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2324885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbuddy/pseuds/casbuddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“ What? Dean scorned with a throaty laugh, already telling Castiel that he shouldn’t have spoken so truthfully, “Was that your way of trying to make me tell you that you should turn human for me? Don’t be so pathetic Cas,” up this close Castiel could see the way the muscles underneath Dean’s skin twitched in unsolicited anger, “I don’t give a fuck whether you live or die, it means fuck all to me,” he leaned forward so their noses were pressed together, Dean’s eyes burning into Castiel’s “I was just pointing out the obvious, that’s all. But if you want to go ahead and die as an angel, then go for it. Hey,” he laughed and leant back into his chair “I’ll even buy front row tickets to the show, I’m sure it will be a good one.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Break

To try and keep busy, Castiel had taken to cooking for Sam. He wasn’t particularly good at it, even though he had watched humanity for centuries perfect the ritual, but it gave him something to do, however small. Using his fists to knead, his hands to grip the knife and chop away somehow seemed to take out some of his frustration. It took his mind away from all the problems for just a moment. Cooking had become Cas’ few flashes of the day where he could try and forget everything else and focus all of his mind and effort on something minutely small and unthreatening.

The chore had also become essential as Sam seemed hell bent on not taking care of himself. Even though Castiel’s meals often looked pale in comparison to the ones that Dean used to make, Sam always took the food with a mumbled thank you and a forced smile, taking small bites of it as he read yet another book from the library about demon lore.

With his depleting grace, perhaps Castiel himself should start to eat alongside Sam, but he never had the urge to. Just the concept of eating made his stomach churn. He knew it was less to do with the food but more to do with the situation; the feeling of sickness never went away and only thickened as the days went on. It hadn’t past his mind that he was being rather hypocritical for forcing Sam to eat while he abandoned the idea of taking care of himself along the way.

He felt Dean enter the room before he saw him; he’d known he was sauntering this way anyway as Castiel was using his weaning grace on keeping track of Dean at all times. Though the human turned demon had no possibility of exiting the bunker with the sigils that Castiel and Sam had placed, Cas knew it was necessary to keep a watch over Dean, more so for Sam’s safety above anything else. Dean was not himself, not the man that Castiel had once reached into Hell and plucked out, which meant that however horrific the notion, Sam was constantly at risk within Dean’s presence.

Next came the stench of him. Even with diluted grace, Cas’ sense of smell was sensitive, and the whole bunker reeked of sulphur. When Dean was situated in the same room as Castiel, it took all of his power not to gag on the smell. It was intoxicating and not in the sweet, intense way that Dean’s old scent had been, of leather and spices, with a touch of gunpowder and whisky depending on the time of day. Now, Dean smelt of Hell, of terror, a smell that Castiel was ingrained to despise and wish to remove from the Earth.

Castiel made no effort to turn around to view Dean, keeping his gaze on the vegetables on the counter instead, as Dean jumped up to sit on the one of the counters opposite to where Castiel was working.

“Sam’s playing that fun game where he pretends I don’t exist again,” Dean said, voice obnoxious and far too loud for such a small room where there were only two of them. Castiel winced. Even Dean’s voice was wrong now. It had always been deep and powerful, oddly getting deeper over the years of Castiel knowing him, perhaps Dean strangely imitating Cas’ voice after interacting with him for so long. Now, Dean’s voice sounded like he’d slugged fifty whiskies. Even the tone was wrong, devoid of emotion other than anger and unapologetic glee at somehow causing harm to another person, his brother no less.

“He’s upset,” Castiel replied, keeping his voice level, back still turned away from Dean.

“Why,” Dean argued, voice still so  _wrong,_  “because I’m a better version of myself?”

“That isn’t what you truly believe, not deep down,” Castiel said, unsure of whether he believed it anymore. He forced himself to turn and look at Dean, doing his best to ignore the quickening of his heart beat and how he felt a strange thickening in his throat. No matter how many times Castiel gazed at Dean, it was never enough to prepare him for next time. The mask unseen to the human eye covered Dean’s face, contorting his features into something unrecognisable. All in all, Castiel was ultimately grateful that his borrowed grace was so weak, because this meant that if Castiel looked hard enough, he could see Dean’s real, human face that he had once placed back together- forest green eyes that had seen too much in life, freckles scattered across his nose and stretched across the rest of his face, lips that had frowned far too many times than they deserved to. No matter how hard he tried though, he still couldn’t quite remove the whole of Dean’s demon features and it hurt more than Cas could even put into words. He was just glad that it was his burden to bear and not Sam’s; he knew that seeing Dean from Cas’ eyes would have broken Sam sooner rather than later.

Dean grinned wickedly, threatening undertones sewed onto his lips and shining on his teeth, “Yeah it is. I’m better this way,” he spread his arms out for a moment as if to prove his point, “And,” he crossed his arms, hands into fists as he looked over at the knife that Castiel had placed carefully onto the counter, “If you and Sam cared about me as much as you fucking say you do, you’d let me out of this place.”

“No,” Castiel answered quickly and shortly. Getting Sam to even agree to Dean being allowed to roam free in the bunker had been a struggle. When Castiel had first got here, confused and grieving as he had assumed his best friend was dead, Dean had been tied up where Crowley had once been, Sam waving a knife around almost maniacally as he frantically repeated that the person inside of Dean couldn’t possibly be his brother.

Even as Castiel had examined Dean with a sickness deep in his gut and explained to Sam that rooted inside of Dean, hidden by the demon part overtaking him, there was  _Dean-_ beautiful,  _human_ Dean- Sam had still struggled with the idea. It had taken Castiel almost a day to convince Sam that his brother could be saved from his fate and have his human side fight and win the demon within him so long as they attempted to bring those feelings back to him. The best way to do that was to let Dean walk around the bunker as normal. Cas hoped that something in the building, whether it be a memory or through Sam, Dean would be jolted back into humanity.

“What?” Dean took a few steps towards Cas with a raised brow, fists swinging at his side, “Scared that I’m going to end up having some fun out there?” his eyes struck black as he smirked, “I’m sure there’s some people out there that are just screaming out for me to stab them in the face.”

Castiel did his best to keep his gaze on Dean instead of looking away like Dean wanted and expected him to. In this way, Dean seemed to like to make Cas uncomfortable and Castiel wanted to ensure he didn’t give him that satisfaction. He looked Dean squarely in the eyes, careful not to flinch as he switched the subject, “What did you say to Sam to upset him?”

Dean’s grin widened and he looked close to laughing, “Nothin’.”

“Dean,” Castiel didn’t take his eyes from Dean, however difficult it was to keep them on him. The only way he could handle it was to keep reminding himself that this wasn’t Dean, not really. This was Dean with all of his humanity stripped bare. It was just like if Castiel was taken back centuries to when he was nothing but another mindless angel, conformity and obedience his only priority. If it were reversed and Dean were human and Castiel had turned into a mechanical angel and nothing more, he knew that Dean would struggle just as much as Castiel was currently.

Dean shrugged, “Just smoked out of my body and did a twirl around the room via black smoke. I don’t think he appreciated the trick very much,” he laughed, crossing his arms, “Hey,” he widened his eyes like he had the best idea in the world, “we could be a circus act, you and me,” he reached over and fidgeted with the collar of Castiel’s coat, fingertips grazing against Cas’ throat in a way that made Castiel want to take a step back, “I could whoosh around in smoke and you could spin your grace around,” Dean smiled smugly, “Oh wait, the grace you have isn’t yours and it’s about to poof out and die.”

Castiel still didn’t move, though his hands turned into small fists as he tried to keep calm as Dean continued to flick at his collar to try and cause a reaction, “I don’t know why you keep trying to make this so difficult for Sam and me,” Castiel shook his head, feeling so very tired, a combination of his losing grace and due to the man standing in front of him.

Dean’s face hardened and his hand bunched the fabric of Cas’ coat in a fist, “I’m making it difficult because you won’t fucking listen to me,” he spit out, eyes snapping to black yet again, “You won’t let me out of this fucking house, and you keep saying bullshit about how you’re going to fix me,” he shook Cas as he said it, hard enough for Cas to feel his brain slam against his skull.

No words could appease the situation, Castiel knew that, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t try, “Do you remember purgatory, how you fought so badly to get to me, to save me?” he asked softly, voice wavering as he thought of a time when Dean loved so fiercely he refused to use an exit from constant pain and fighting until he found Castiel, “I’m just trying to do the same for you Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded, eyes flashing back to his normal colour, though they were just as threatening, a dark, unbidden anger deep inside of the green, “I remember purgatory,” he snarled, “I remember that you left me, just like you always fucking do.”

The outburst surprised Castiel. It was no secret that Castiel had done badly to Dean many times in their relationship. But it was a shock that Dean, even in the state he was in now, was still bitter and angry about it. Was this a breakthrough? Or was this Dean using his anger from when he was human to spur on his demon self even more? That would mean that Castiel was one of the reasons, if not the  _biggest_ reason, as to why Dean was so angry now that he didn’t have to care about hiding it.

Castiel reached over and placed a hand on Dean’s forearm, right where he had once left a mark, “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I’ve abandoned you in the past,” he squeezed Dean’s arm, watching as Dean flinched at the action, “I will never be able to show how sorry I am for all the mistakes I have made towards you-“

“Get off me,” Dean told him through gritted teeth.

“-but the fact that you are still angry about that means that somewhere inside of you,” Castiel continued, ignoring Dean’s words, “you still care, you still  _feel.”_

Castiel hoped he was right.  _Please let him be right about this._

Dean snapped, other hand coming up to grip at Cas’ coat, tugging at him so their faces were a breath away from each other, “If you don’t get your hand off me, I will cut it off.”

“No,” Castiel shook his head, “you won’t hurt me,” he was so sure of it, that even in this form, Dean wouldn’t take that extra step and cause any harm to Castiel or Sam. Castiel watched over Dean to give himself peace of mind but deep down he never believed that Dean really would harm either of them; he assumed it was just talk, nothing more.

Dean laughed humourlessly, “I find it fucking laughable that you and Sam think you can give me sad doe eyes and I’m going to turn back into sweet precious human Dean,” he shook Cas’ frame, mouth down turning into a snarl, “Dean is  _dead,”_ he punctuated each word with a shake of Cas’ body.

Castiel shook his head, refusing to believe any of it, “I can see you Dean, that part of you isn’t dead,” even now, with Dean’s demon mask covering his entire features in a furious snarl, Castiel could still glimpse his true, human self hidden away, trying to protect itself from the darkness, “I can see your soul,” he argued, surprised at how his voice was starting to rise, “it’s still there,” he shook his head feverishly, eyes starting to fill with unwept tears, “He’s  _not_ dead.”

As quick as Castiel could blink with his wet eyes, a hand coiled around his neck, squeezing hard enough for the breath to be taken from him, “Yes he is you fucking idiot,” Dean tightened his hold of Cas’ neck, dragging Cas around so his back slammed against the wall with a terrifying, heart wrenching thud, “He’s  _gone._ And I will tear out your pretty fucking eyes to prove it-“

Dean’s speech was cut short by a blow to the back of his head, hard enough to knock him unconscious. Even whilst in shock, Castiel was quick enough to instinctively grab Dean’s body before it fell to the floor, hand cupping the back of his bleeding head as he caught him.

With tear filled eyes, Castiel looked up at an exhausted Sam- who didn’t seem surprised at the events-  as he cradled the body of the man who he had once lived for.

“You know, you can’t leave me in here forever.”

Castiel ignored the comment, instead choosing to recheck Dean’s head wound, softly pushing the hair away and sighing in relief when he found that it had healed, only dried blood left. He had been privately worried that it wouldn’t heal as they were in the bunker, that perhaps there were unnoticed sigils somewhere in the building that prevented demons from healing. For a change, Castiel was glad he was proven wrong.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, you and Sam, by coming in here and giving me bambi eyes while you chat shit about our past, well, I hate to break it to you but it’s not working,” Dean remarked, tipping his head back so he could look at Cas upside down. His lips, as always, were stretched into a knowing smirk.

Castiel ran his fingers through Dean’s hair absentmindedly, pushing it all back to its original state. He still didn’t know what to say so he kept quiet. Unremarkably, since Dean’s hand had been wrapped around his throat, Castiel hadn’t had much to voice aloud.

“I still don’t know why you fucking bother,” Dean shook his head, though he made no comment on Cas’ fingers lightly scratching his scalp, no effort to move away from Cas’ hands, “I’m happy like this, you know it, Sam knows it, so why are you fucking bothering trying to make me go back to what I was?”

“I can hear your soul screaming,” Castiel whispered, “I can hear it screaming Dean and I want the screaming to stop,” he dropped his hands away from Dean’s head as he tried his best not to show Dean how upset he was.

“Huh,” Dean half shrugged, lips still smiling, “Well, I guess you’re gonna have to get used to the screaming, aren’t you?”

“No,” Castiel bit back, “I won’t,” he promised, “We’re going to make it so your soul is restored and wins against the demon part of you. Something, whatever it is, will give your soul a reason to fight. I can promise you that Dean.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t make,” Dean rolled his shoulders back, though it was a struggle with the way his arms were tied so tightly. His concentrated gaze followed Castiel as he moved to stand in front of Dean instead, “I don’t get it. If you two want me to be human so fucking bad, why don’t you make me human the good old fashioned way?”

Castiel tipped his head to the side with a frown.

“I mean, I’m guessing you’re stopping Sam from doing it because if he does it, then that means he’ll complete the closing up Hell trials and he’ll die. And apparently him dying is a bad thing for everyone,” Dean tapped his fingernails against the metal of the chair.

Even with the prospect of death, Sam had still brought up the subject of treating Dean in that way, something that Castiel had shut down immediately. He wasn’t going to lose Sam or let him sacrifice himself. Besides, if he did that and died, when Dean became human again, it would just end up being yet another downward spiral of guilt and yet more death.

“But you,” his eyes flashed up to look at Cas, “If you cared about me as much you fucking say you do, you could easily turn human and do the ritual yourself. Then you could get your good old buddy back.”

“It wouldn’t work,” Castiel replied with his jaw tight as he admitted, “Yes, I would be human, but I’ve been in this vessel for too long. There would be too much angelic residue for me to perform the ritual successfully,” just speaking the words made Castiel want to scream and shout, to crunch something in his palm. Castiel didn’t have enough grace to even attempt to suck Dean’s soul into a more prominent position in Dean’s body, but he also wasn’t human enough to perform the ritual that would bring him back to his fully human state. Castiel was useless.

“Huh,” Dean licked over his lips as his eyes seeped into blackness, “well that’s one less thing I need to worry about.”

Just as Castiel was about to reply, a wave of nausea ran through him, hard enough to propel him forwards. To prevent himself from falling, he gripped onto Dean’s shoulders, body very nearly thrown over the demon. He still didn’t have enough energy to move back fully on to his feet so he stayed where he was, face pressed near to Dean’s as he tried to regain his breath.

Dean made no attempts to use this to his advantage to escape in some way, he instead roamed his eyes over Cas’ face and spit out, “You’re so fucking stupid. You could easily let go of that grace and become human again, then you wouldn’t be dying.”

Castiel shook his head a tiny fraction, mumbling without much of a thought, because he didn’t have the energy to think anything through, “I don’t have anyone to turn human for.”

“ What? Dean scorned with a throaty laugh, already telling Castiel that he shouldn’t have spoken so truthfully, “Was that your way of trying to make me tell you that you should turn human for me? Don’t be so pathetic Cas,” up this close Castiel could see the way the muscles underneath Dean’s skin twitched in unsolicited anger, “I don’t give a fuck whether you live or die, it means fuck all to me,” he leaned forward so their noses were pressed together, Dean’s eyes burning into Castiel’s “I was just pointing out the obvious, that’s all. But if you want to go ahead and die as an angel, then go for it. Hey,” he laughed and leant back into his chair “I’ll even buy front row tickets to the show, I’m sure it will be a good one.”

Quickly, Castiel turned and left without a word so Dean wouldn’t have the satisfaction in seeing how much the words affected him.

Throughout the depletion of his borrowed grace, Castiel had constantly worried that he was putting Sam and Dean in danger. He didn’t know whether he would be able to gage when it was time, when his grace was going to burn out and eradicate everything that was in close proximity. The thought had made Castiel often consider the option of leaving before it was too late, but no matter how many times he made a plan, he would see an exhausted Sam passed out at the dining table with piles of demon books surrounding him, or he would see just a flash of a genuine smile on Dean’s face that dangerously gave him hope.

Now, though, everything was too late.

It was time to die.

Cowardly, Castiel decided not to say goodbye to Sam. He wouldn’t know what to say to him, how to apologise for everything he had put him through, nor how to tell him that he was leaving him with his broken brother. Not just that, but Castiel knew that he had limited time before he had to evacuate deep into the bunker where he wouldn’t harm anyone. Selfishly, he wanted to use all of his remaining time on Dean.

As always, Dean was situated in the chair that bound him, looking as calm and content as ever, like he could stay sitting there tied up till the end of time and he would be fine with, maybe even enjoy it.

When he noticed Cas staggering in with a sheened face and a heavy breath, Dean whistled, “Wow Cas, not looking so good.”

“No,” Castiel agreed, not stopping walking until he was standing right in front of Dean, however difficult it was to reach that distance with his hammering heart, “I don’t suppose I do.”

Dean paused for a moment, taking in Castiel’s shaking frame with guarded eyes. Castiel couldn’t even imagine how terrible he looked at this moment, but he felt how his limbs were shaky, how he was struggling to breathe let alone speak. Even keeping his eyes open was a task that he had to focus on.

“What the fuck do you want this time?” Dean asked, apparently choosing to ignore Castiel’s torn up state.

Castiel forced a tired smile, “I’m here to say goodbye,” he said quietly, knowing that this time it would be it, this would be the final time he would get to do this. There would be no more comebacks, no more rising from the dead to surprise the Winchester’s and himself. This time it was final.

“You’re what?” Dean questioned harshly.

“My grace is about to die out,” Cas explained, moving to brace his hands on either shoulder of Dean’s so he didn’t collapse. Dean didn’t shove him out of the way, he just kept his gaze on Cas as he spat out, far too angry than he deserved to be, “Why don’t you just fucking turn human?”

Castiel leant forward to press their foreheads together, shutting his eyes, “Because then I will have to watch you fall deeper and deeper into this pit you are making for yourself. And I can’t do it anymore,” he admitted with a whisper, voice a croak and nothing more, “it hurts too much Dean. I would prefer to die when I can still remember how you used to be, how much you used to love, how beautiful you were,” his lips curved into a smile as he recalled how Dean once was, the soft smiles and careful hands, the way he would tip his head back when he laughed at something Castiel didn’t understand, how he would dance and mouth along to songs in the car and in the kitchen he had made himself; that was the Dean that Castiel loved more than everything else combined.

“I-“ his throat caught and before he could stop himself, his eyes were pools and tears were streaming down his face, “I would prefer to die now than to continue to a point where I can’t remember what man you used to be,” he blindly cupped Dean’s face, “I’m sorry Dean,” he choked, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you,” he pressed their foreheads even tighter together, “more sorry than you will ever know.”

He ignored the way Dean’s body seemed to be shaking under his touch, because it was more than likely that Castiel was the one who was shaking, not Dean. It wasn’t Dean who was sobbing, it was him and him alone.

Using his last bout of energy, Castiel tipped his head upwards, fingertips grazing Dean’s jaw and cheeks, too numb to feel the wetness on Dean’s skin, “Goodbye my love,” he murmured against Dean’s forehead, pressing his lips there for their first and final kiss.

Castiel left his eyes shut until he was out of the room, unable to look at Dean again with the knowledge that it would be the last time.

Sam was woken up with of a scream. Quickly, he sat up alert, body going taut when he realised that the scream was coming from his brother’s mouth.

The first thought that went through Sam’s mind was that it was a trap. But it didn’t make sense. Not once had Dean tried to trick them into letting him go, he actually seemed to enjoy where he was, happily taunting them to get a reaction.

Sam’s next thought was that something terrible was happening. Against his better judgement, he was on his feet in seconds and running- no,  _sprinting-_ to get to Dean, unhooking the gun from the back of his jeans that he always had on hand now.

In all honesty, Sam had no idea what he was walking into, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight in front of him. Dean’s wrists were chafed raw from where he’d been trying to escape the restraints around them, his whole body bashing and writhing to get away from the chair. What was the biggest cause of concern was Dean’s face; his eyes were filled with tears, face red and blotchy as he shook his head and carried on screaming, apparently not having noticed Sam’s appearance.

“De-“ Sam swallowed, taking a cautious step forward as if he were confronting a wild animal, “Dean?”

Finally, Dean realised he wasn’t alone, but that didn’t stop him screaming and it took Sam a moment to realise that he was demanding him to let him free.

“What are you-“ Sam started to ask bewildered, having no clue as to what could have caused this. Was Dean having some sort of breakthrough? Was his humanity fighting his demon side? Where was Cas, he would know for sure. He’d be able to calm Dean down, even if it was to force him into unconsciousness.

Dean didn’t stop thrashing as he sobbed, eyes so filled with tears he must be half blind, “If you don’t let- let me out, Cas- Cas, he’s gonna die. Please,  _please,”_ he begged, “Please let me out.”

Sam’s blood ran cold, “What?”

“He’s going to die Sammy,” Dean babbled, and it was the first time that Dean had used the nickname since becoming a demon, “You have to let me out so I can stop him, so he’ll let go of his grace-“ his words were cut off for a moment when a high screech started to fill the air, so loud that Sam had to cover his ears, never taking his eyes from Dean’s sobbing frame.

“Please Sammy,” Dean screamed over the noise and the shake of the floor, “Please don’t let him die, please, you can’t- you can’t let him die.”

Even without the screeching sound echoing around the room and how the walls were fighting to stay upright, Sam knew that his brother wasn’t lying. Not even a demon could act the fear that Dean was showcasing right now. The tears on his face, the pure terror in his eyes- no, this was  _real._

Cas was dying and it had caused Dean to feel something other than anger. It had made him fight against his demonic side and push his soul back into place. His soul was now the driving force inside of Dean and any other time, Sam would be rejoicing, but Cas was  _dying._

With trembling hands, Sam untied all of the restraints on Dean, pounding after him as Dean ran to the origin of the noise. Again, Sam had no idea what they were going to find, whether they were going to be too late. Even still, he didn’t stop running. Neither did Dean.

They were at Cas within seconds, Dean several feet in front of Sam as he raced to the middle of Dean’s bedroom where Cas was curled up into a tight ball on Dean’s bed, clearly in guttural pain. Sam didn’t know what the hell was going on, how Dean had knew that Cas was dying, why Cas had chosen Dean’s room of all places to die,  _why_ he was dying at all. Sam was, again, left out in the dark and he felt helpless as he watched from the doorway as Dean leaped onto the bed.

“Cas,” Dean said frantically, heaving Cas’ body up so he could cup Cas’ face and shake it, “Cas, don’t you fucking dare,” he pressed their foreheads together desperately, “I love you so don’t you fucking dare leave me.”

Body going more taut and limp each second, Cas’ eyes fluttered open and he looked confused for a moment as his eyes washed over a terrified looking Dean. Slowly, his lips lifted into a faint smile as if he were seeing something he hadn’t seen for a very long time. The smile quickly turned into a grimace as the screeching, white noise seemed to double.

“Please Cas,” Dean grabbed onto Cas’ coat, one hand cupping the back of Cas’ head, “Just let it go, let the grace go. Just please-“ he begged, sounding like a little boy again, voice small and terrified, “Please don’t leave me.”

Castiel nodded his head droopily as his eyes flickered shut, “Shut your eyes.”

“Cas,” Dean warned, shaking his head vehemently, “No, don’t-“

“Shut your eyes,” Cas repeated as his hand reached blindly to cover Dean’s vision. Sam followed suit, slamming his eyes shut just in time for a flash of light that burnt the back of his eyelids. As quickly as the light brightened and the noise tumultuously loudened, it was silent. The light disappeared and the only sounds left were their gasping breaths.

Weirdly, Sam felt numb at the same time as his whole body tingled. Slowly, he opened his eyes. With his heart in his throat, he watched Dean rake his eyes over Cas’ collapsed frame on the bed, one hand limply still holding onto Dean’s shirt.

“Cas?” Dean whispered. There was no answer and Sam was close to falling to the floor himself because he couldn’t watch this, he couldn’t watch his brother mourn his best friend who was so much  _more_ than that, he couldn’t look at Cas’ lifeless body, he wasn’t strong enough to do  _any_ of this.

“Cas?” Dean repeated again, voice smaller now.

With shaking fingers, Dean curled his fingers around Cas’ wrist to check for a pulse. After a second, Dean’s whole body deflated and he reached down to kiss Cas’ palm before he crawled next to Cas on the bed. He curled his body around Cas’ protectively, burying his nose against Cas’ cheek bone as he carefully ran his fingers through Cas’ hair.

“It’s okay,” Dean told Cas quietly, “you’re going to be okay,” he promised as he placed his hand over Cas’ beating,  _human,_  heart, “everything is going to be okay.”

Sam hoped that maybe just this one time, after everything they had been through to get here, Dean may end up being right.


End file.
